


chaos, arson, and other fun things

by fungdi



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hero AU, Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 06:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30101451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fungdi/pseuds/fungdi
Summary: Dream is the lead hero that runs SMP city. He does a great job- there's no crime, the city is spotless, and it's the nicest place to live on the east coast. People flock from miles around, creating a glowing metropolis with a lovely character. It's been called many things- "a modern utopia", "a beacon of light", etc., etc., etc....Wilbur thinks it's too boring. And bad things happen when Wilbur gets bored.--(OR: Wilbur becomes a supervillain, and drags his begrudging younger brother along for the ride. It spirals from there.)
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97
Collections: Chossi's fic reccomendations for the soul





	chaos, arson, and other fun things

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so this is a thing now. I saw a whole bunch of really fun Vigilante!Tommy fics and this story idea just absolutely possessed me until I caved and wrote something, so. Yeah.
> 
> Enjoy?

The thing with Dream’s city, Wilbur thinks, is that it’s  _ boring. _ Now, don’t get him wrong, the hero’s doing a good job- a great job, even- but that brings him back to the original point. The SMP is boring. 

No crime, no graffiti, not even a drug cartel. Even  _ jaywalking  _ can get you in trouble, here. Dream and his cronies police the streets, keeping everything clean and orderly and nice. A “beacon of light”, it’s called. 

Wilbur sighs. There’s no point walking the backstreets if there’s no danger. It’s not  _ exciting _ . If he didn’t want to be jumped by three guys with a bat, he’d take the main roads like anyone else.

The most exciting thing that’s ever happened to Wilbur was when Tommy tried to mug him. In his own flat. 

...which they both live in. 

Wilbur idly taps his fingers against the table. He’s in one of those  _ moods _ again, the types that make Tommy eye him warily and follow him about with a fire extinguisher. He checks his phone. It’s 11:43 AM. 

He puts it back down and continues tapping. He’s  _ bored. _ It’s 11:43 AM on a Saturday afternoon, and he has absolutely nothing to do. 

The thing with Dream’s city is that it’s too… nice. Too orderly. Wilbur’s fingers tap faster against the countertop. What it needs is a healthy dose of  _ chaos. _

Wilbur can feel a wild grin stretch across his face. Oh. Oh,  _ that’s  _ an idea. 

“Hey, Tommy?” Wilbur asks.

Two rooms over, there’s a muffled thud. “Yeaaah?”

“I’m becoming a supervillain!”

* * *

As with most things Wilbur says, this doesn’t go over particularly well. Tommy runs out of his bedroom, hair a mess and a single sock on his left foot.

“You’re becoming a  _ what. _ ”

“A supervillain!” Wilbur beams.

“You’re- no you’re not.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” Tommy crosses his arms. Between the wrinkled shirt, messy hair, and one bare foot, it’s hardly intimidating.

Wilbur sighs. “Tommy, you tried to mug me last week.”

“So? That’s- it’s  _ light crime, _ okay- that’s not the same as becoming a  _ supervillain! _ ”

Wilbur barks out a laugh. “Mug three more people, and I bet Dream’ll start a manhunt before the week’s out.”

Tommy makes a face as if he’s bitten into a lemon. “I- yeah, Dream’s a bit strange, but he’s a good-  _ wait. _ ” He uncrosses his arms, blinking. There’s a disturbed look on his face. “I’m the voice of reason.”

Wilbur raises a brow at him.

“I’m the- how am  _ I _ the voice of- this is your fault.”

Wilbur grins.

“Don’t look at me like that, you absolute dick. This is  _ my _ flat, and  _ I _ say that you’re not becoming a supervillain.”

“Who pays rent again?” Wilbur asks sweetly.

Tommy flushes red. “It’s my house,” he says.

“That I pay for,” Wilbur sing-songs. “ _ Baby brother. _ ”

“Shut the fuck up!” Tommy screeches, and then they both go down in a tangle of limbs. 

* * *

Wilbur sticks his hand in the sink. “I’m gonna need a rabies shot,” he groans.

“Oh, fuck off.” Tommy spits blood into a tissue. “You taste fucking disgusting.”

“You  _ bit _ me.”

“You started it,” Tommy says, mulish. He runs his tongue over his teeth and shudders. “Gimme some water.”

“ _ You _ started it,” Wilbur says, ignoring him.

Tommy lets out a long, tortured groan, slumping down in his chair. They’re both too tired to argue. “Fuck off.”

Wilbur grins. He’s just won, and they both know it. He slaps a band-aid on the bite marks, before snatching his phone off the counter. It’s 12:06. 

“Well,” he says brightly. “I have to go- places to go, people to see and all that- don’t burn the flat down when I’m gone!”

“That was  _ one time _ , you bitch-”

Wilbur closes the door in his face. He tucks his hands in his pockets, walking downstairs, humming all the while.

It’s time to become a supervillain.

* * *

The first thing Wilbur does is make a list. If he’s going to be a supervillain, he’s going to do it  _ right. _ He’ll need a mask, of course, and some sort of outfit that will work as a costume.  _ Ooh, _ and an evil lair. Every villain needs a lair. 

Wilbur glances around and ‘tsks’ to himself. Even the  _ back alleys _ are clean. He’ll have to come back to that. 

So- mask, costume, lair- Wilbur stops dead in the middle of the pavement. He’s forgotten the most important thing.

He needs a  _ sidekick _ .

* * *

Several blocks away, curled up in a blanket, Tommy interrupts his rant to sneeze.

“Dude, are you sick?” Tubbo asks, leaning away. “I just got here, man, don’t you dare get me sick.”

“Wha-  _ no! _ I don’t get sick!”

Tubbo raises an eyebrow. He must’ve learned it from Wilbur, because it has just enough condescension in it that Tommy wants to punch something. Or it’s the smirk that tugs at the corner of Tubbo’s lips.

“I  _ don’t _ ,” Tommy whines.

“Whatever you say, big man.” Tubbo doesn’t seem convinced. He’s dropped the eyebrow, though, so it’s all good.

Tommy pulls the blankets tighter around himself. Back to the problem at hand. “He wants to become a  _ supervillain, _ ” he says.

Tubbo sighs. “I know, Tommy.” There’s a pause. “...Y’know, it’s actually not a bad idea.”

Tommy whips his head around to stare at him. “What.”

Tubbo smiles at Tommy. Tommy gapes back. “Wilbur’s right- it’s kind of boring around here.”

“You traitor,” Tommy whispers. He can’t believe it. “You- I brought you here to  _ help, _ not to make things worse! This is such a stupid fuckin’ idea, and you want to- what? Burn shit down?”

There’s a spark in Tubbo’s eyes. “I’ve always been partial to arson,” he says.

“Tubbo,  _ no. _ ”

“Tubbo,  _ yes, _ ” he beams. “It’ll be fun!”

Tommy is never going to recover from this betrayal. He groans, letting his head fall down onto the table with a thump.

“How could you do this to me,” he whines. It’s muffled by the table. Tubbo pats his shoulder consolingly.

“ _ You’re _ the dirty crime boy,” Tubbo says.

“That’s Wilbur,” Tommy says. The table is pressing into his nose. “I just scam people.”

“...didn’t you try mugging him last week?”

Tommy shoots up from his slump.  _ Lies and slander. _ “I didn’t  _ try- _ ” he starts, offended, before his phone starts to ring. They both pause. “I won’t forget this,” Tommy says, before pulling out his phone. 

_ [Incoming call from: Jared] _

“Who’s Jared?” Tubbo asks, peering over his shoulder.

“It’s- AAUGH!” Tommy drops his phone. “How’d you get there?”

Tubbo doesn’t answer him, picking up his phone. “I’m answering it.”

“No, wait  _ wait wait- _ ”

Tubbo presses the speaker button. “Hello?” He asks, nasally.

“What the- that doesn’t even  _ sound  _ like me,” Tommy hisses. Tubbo waves him off.

_ “Hello, Tommy,” _ Wilbur chirps through the phone.

“Wilbur!” Tubbo says, delighted. “I didn’t know it was you!” Tommy lets out a groan of defeat, sinking into his blanket.

_ “Oh- hi Tubbo! Can you put Tommy on? It’s important.” _

Tubbo tilts his head to the side. “Is this about the supervillain thing?”

_ “...Perhaps.” _

“I want in.” 

Tommy sputters. “No!”

_ “Oh, that’s perfect! I’m in the market for a sidekick, anyways.” _ Tommy can hear the grin in his voice, and he hates it.

“Nope, no, absolutely not-”

Tubbo leans away from where Tommy’s trying to grab the phone. “Yes, I’d love to be your sidekick! Actually…” Tubbo glances down at Tommy, a vindictive glint in his eyes. “Dream’s got a team of three, doesn’t he? And I think it’d be good for Tommy to get out of the house, anyways.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Tommy says. His eyes are wide. “You are  _ absolutely _ not saying what I think you’re saying. You’re- gimme the phone!”

_ “Well, it’s decided, then!”  _ Wilbur says.  _ “I’ll send you an address in a bit- be there at 5PM. Tonight. Goodbye!”  _

With a click, the line goes dead. Tommy stares at the phone like it’s just murdered his family. “Tubbo, please tell me you didn’t just rope me into Wilbur’s stupid fucking idea.”

Tubbo hands the phone back. “You’re not doing anything this evening, are you?”

  
“ _ No, _ ” Tommy grits out.

Tubbo beams. “Perfect!”

“Wait- no, I didn’t mean it like that-”

Tubbo laughs at him. This is officially the worst day of Tommy’s life.

* * *

4:45 PM rolls around, and Tommy finds himself in the western corner of the city, Tubbo’s grip like a vice around his arm.

“Can you- fuckin’- let go? Christ, Tubbo, I can’t feel my fingers.”

Tubbo glances over at him. “You’ll live,” he says brightly. “Besides, I don’t want you running off.”

“Is- is this a  _ kidnapping? _ ” Tommy sputters.

Tubbo actually pauses, considering it. “Weeellll…  _ technically, _ no.”

“Technically?” Tommy’s voice shoots up a whole octave. “Technically?! I told you I don’t want to join your shady cult!”

Tubbo gasps. “Oh my God, you’re a genius!”

“...what.”

“We should start a cult!”

“No!” Tommy shoves at Tubbo’s shoulder. “No  _ cults, _ no  _ supervillains, _ no  _ arson! _ I just wanna graduate college, man!”

“It’s called high school in America,” Tubbo says, prim.

“Fuck off, it’s basically college.”

“If you say you want to ‘graduate college’, everyone’s gonna assume you mean  _ uni, _ and no one will believe you.”

Tommy groans. “Why are Americans so  _ weird? _ ”

“Gentlemen!” Aaaaaand that’s Wilbur. Tommy twists around in Tubbo’s grip, looking around. The alleyway’s empty.

_ Click. Click. Click. _ Tommy stares as Wilbur emerges from the shadows. Black leather boots, a brown trenchcoat, a black turtleneck and combat gloves, and finally, a black gas mask covering the bottom of his face. 

“I’m glad to see you could make it.”

If Tommy didn’t know that his dorky older brother was under there, he’d almost be afraid. Almost. Because Tommy doesn’t  _ get _ scared.

“...Wilbur-”

“That’s  _ so fucking cool, _ ” Tubbo gushes. “Do I get a costume, too? Are they just clothes or do they give actual protection? Like, you could probably line the coat with kevlar, or something, but that’ll make it heavy, and it already restricts motion, so maybe not- and then the gas mask’s smart, but does it mess with your vision and all? Like, if you-”

Wilbur holds up a hand, and Tubbo goes quiet. God, he’s practically  _ glowing, _ eyes wide and vibrating in place. Well, now Tommy’s lost Tubbo for good. He hangs his head in defeat. 

“Not here. Follow me.”

And with that ominous statement, Wilbur turns, trench coat flaring dramatically behind him, and stalks off into the darkness.

...Dramatic bastard.

Tubbo follows behind, yanking on Tommy’s arm in his hurry to stay close. Tommy, just to be a dick about it, drags his feet.

Tubbo tugs harder, and Tommy can hear his shoulder groan.

“Fuck, okay,” he mutters, speeding up.

Wilbur leads them into an alleyway even darker than the first, before stopping over a manhole and pulling it up. 

“Wait- Wil, you’re not- this is a  _ sewer. _ ”

Wilbur blinks at him. “Yes?”

“I’m not going in a fucking  _ sewer! _ ”

“Well, I don’t see you having any choice in the matter,” Wilbur sniffs, offended, “but the SMP has, frankly,  _ offensive _ levels of cleanliness- if you can eat off the pavement, you can live in a sewer.”

Tubbo, the  _ traitor, _ pushes him forward.

“Oooh no. Nope, no, absolutely not you  _ sick sonovabitch- _ ” Tubbo pushes him in, and he- slips, grabs the ladder, hanging on for dear life. His feet scramble to find a spot on the rungs. “Tubbo!”

Tubbo leans over the entrance, beaming at him. “I got tired of waiting,” he says, chipper. “I’m coming down next, so you best get out of the way!”

“Oh fuck.” Tommy scrambles down the ladder, slipping a few times before he makes it to the ground. He knows from experience that Tubbo’s a force of nature- even if he’s small, he’ll bulldoze over anyone in his way.

Tubbo, the madman, doesn’t even use the ladder. He jumps, and lands in a wobbly crouch on the floor of the tunnel. Wilbur is last, carefully sliding the cover back into place before joining them underground.

“Well!” Wilbur claps his hands together. “Are you ready to be a  _ Rebel _ ?”

“That’s a stupid fucking name,” Tommy grumbles.

“Yes!” Tubbo says. Tommy tries to inch away, but Tubbo reaches out and grabs his arm, fingers digging into his bicep.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” Wilbur says, sweeping his arms out to the side, “To L’Manberg H.Q.”

The lights flick on, and Tubbo gapes. 

The tunnel has been expanded, carved out in spots for smaller rooms. In one corner, Tommy can see a wall of screens, flicking through security feeds. In another, there’s something that looks rather like a rejected chemistry experiment, bubbling and hissing in a flask. 

Wilbur strides over to a chair and sinks dramatically into it, beckoning them closer. “It’s time to stage a  _ revolution. _ ” he says.

Tommy feels a part of his soul wither and die.

“Are you with me?” Wilbur asks.

“Yes!” Tubbo says, grinning.

There’s a pause, and both of them turn to Tommy. He fidgets. “I don’t suppose you’ll take no-” 

Tubbo’s fingers dig into his arm, and Tommy changes tactics. “ _ Ow, _ okay, fuck.  _ Fine! _ ”

Wilbur smiles beneath the mask. Tommy immediately regrets everything.

...This has got to be the worst day of his life.


End file.
